Fiddleford's Secrets
by Topaz88
Summary: After Ford and Fidds finish school, they, along with Stanley, head for Gravity Falls, Oregon. Stan wonders why, even though they're close friends, Fiddleford has never told either of the Pines twins about his family, or that he has any talents outside of mechanics and engineering... Based loosely on the artwork/writing of Jessica Sheffield,@ kaleidraws@tumblr dot com w/permission
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: 1) I do not own Gravity Falls, or any of its characters. 2)This story is based loosely on the work of Jessica Sheffield, the talented artist at , specifically her comic "Country Roads". The cover photo is from that comic too—thank you so much for letting me use it !

Stan yawned and looked out the passenger window of the car. "Are we there yet?"

The young man driving the car, who looked very much like Stan aside from being more slight in his build, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and having a cleft in his chin glanced at him. "Well, good morning sleeping beauty. No, we're not there yet. We just crossed the Oregon border about half an hour ago. "

Stan yawned again and shook himself. "So, tell me again what all you did with that grant money? " 

The young man in the driver's seat watched the road. "Well, I had a house built on the outskirts of town—and there's a lab underneath. "

Stan gazed at his twin brother. How on earth did they get here? It seemed like just yesterday the twin's father had thrown Stan out of the house for accidentally breaking an invention that would have gotten his brother into a swanky college on the west coast. Now he had graduated (ahead of schedule) and the two were heading to a little logging town in Oregon.

"What'd you say the name of this place was, Ford? "Stan asked.

"Gravity Falls. "

Evidently, the young mens' father was not prepared when their mother had had twins, so they were given very similar names—Stanley, born about seven and a half minutes before his brother, Stanford. Lately Stanford had decided that "Stanley and Stanford" was quite the mouthful to say, so he asked people to just call him Ford.

"Gravity Falls…huh." Stan said to himself.

Looking over his shoulder and out the back window, he watched the trailer they'd bought rattle along behind them. The tarp they'd put over their belongings appeared to be still intact.

After making sure the trailer looked okay, Stan's Crayola-brown eyes focused on the tiny passenger asleep in the back seat. Well, tiny in the sense that his lanky five-foot-seven frame was miniscule compared to Stan's bulky six-foot boxer physique body.

"How long has Fidds been asleep?" Stan asked, turning back around.

"Well, after _you_ fell asleep, Fiddleford and I talked for a while, then he seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes open, so I suggested he lie down. "

Stan looked up in the rear-view mirror. "So—what did you say the kid had—I mean, those letters behind his name? "

Ford rolled his eyes. "Fiddleford has a doctorate in computer science and a masters in engineering. "

Stan shook his head. "Oi. And you have twelve PH-whatsits—and don't tell me what they all are, I'll get a headache. "He smiled at his brother. "But I'm proud of you, ya know that? I may not understand anything you're talking about-or Fidds either, for that matter—but I'm proud of you. "

Ford smiled and kept his eyes on the road. "Thank you, Stanley."

Stan smiled a "You're welcome" back, and turned to check on their passenger again.

At twenty-one, Fiddleford McGucket was a year younger than the twins. At the beginning of their school career, he had become fast friends with Ford, and Stanley had only met him when he had tried to come back and apologize to Ford for breaking an invention he'd created. Seconds after meeting Fiddleford, he and Stanley had had run off to save Ford's life, Ford having been taken by a cult of sorts that believed he should be destroyed because he was "imperfect." Fiddleford turned out to be the one to actually save Ford's life, taking a dagger in the back that the cult leader had meant to plunge into Ford's chest.

"There's a big heart in that little body." Ford had told Stan.

Stan turned around and looked at his brother's hands as they grasped the steering wheel. There were six fingers on both of them. Ever since the twins were small, Stan had felt the need to, and had, protected his brother from the bullies that had teased him for it. Thinking about their passenger he wondered,

 _Was Fidds ever bullied as a kid? In his case, it was probably for being so little. Did he ever have someone who stood up for him?_

Aloud, Stan said, "So, all these years and Fidds has never told you about his family? "

Ford nodded. "It somehow seemed a bit of a sore subject, so after the first few times I asked him about it I decided not to pry. "

"Hm."

"Well, there it is." Ford announced, interrupting Stan from any more thoughts he may have had about the subject.

Stan looked ahead of them. At the right side of the road was a large billboard painted with a blue background. Large green letters with trees inside them, as if they were a portal to another world, read:

 _Gravity Falls._


	2. Chapter 2

Stan looked out the window as Ford drove through. There was a little convenience store, a diner, city hall, a lumber mill…

"Kind of a little Podunk town, ain't it? "

Ford shrugged. "My studies show that this town has more instances of strange anomalies than any place in the United States."

Stan's eyebrows shot up. "If you say so."

There was a groan from the back seat.

"Oh dear—how long've I been asleep? "

Stan looked in the rear-view mirror at their passenger, whose thick hair was even messier at the moment than it usually was. "Long enough for you to get a stitching mark from the seat on your face. "

Fiddleford's eyes went wide as he got a look at himself in the rear-view mirror. "Goodness! I hope we don't run into anyone with me lookin' this unpresentable! "

Stan rolled his eyes and pulled his comb out of his back pocket. Tossing it over his shoulder toward the back seat, he said, "Don't worry, Fiddles, I don't think we'll run into the Queen or anyone like that in this place. "

The young man in the back seat looked out the window. "My, is this Gravity Falls? "

"Yup." Ford acknowledged.

Fiddleford looked out the back window to see what he'd missed. "Kind of a quaint little place, ain't it? "

"I guess that's a word for it. " Stan said with a shake of his head.

Ford drove all the way through town and headed into the woods.

"I thought you said you were doin' your research-y stuff in Gravity Falls." Stan said, confused.

"Well, technically this is still Gravity Falls." Ford answered. "The house I had built is more on the outskirts of town. "

Fiddleford looked out the window at the huge redwoods. "Amazing. I wonder what kinds 'a' creatures were roamin' the earth when these trees were saplings. "

"Probably things that would've considered you less than a snack." Stan joked.

" _Stanley_ …" Ford said, shooting his twin a warning glare.

Fiddleford bit his lower lip. "I hope—I hope there's nothin' like that out here, now."

"Well, I don't know about dinosaurs, but we're here to find out what's here," Ford said, turning into a clearing. "—and, we're- _here_. "

Stan and Fiddleford both looked out the front window. A few yards ahead of them was a house with a number of peaks on the roof—they were parked close to what Stan guessed to be the front door, but he saw a covered porch with a door that led into the house on its south east side, too.

"Not bad, Sixer," Stan said, getting out of the car and inhaling the forest air.

"Wait until you see the inside." his brother answered as he shut down the car and pulled out the key.

Fiddleford, who had used Stan's comb to try to straighten his hair a bit, got out of the back passenger's side. "Goodness, it sure does look mysterious. "

Ford went back to the trailer they'd been towing and started untying one of the ropes that held the tarp down over their things.

"Oh, let me help you with that." Fiddleford said, going to the other side of the trailer and trying to undo another of the ropes.

Stan took a last look at the house, then came over to help, too.

"Okay, Fidds," Ford said when he undid the last rope. "Help me get this off and fold it, won't you? "

"Certainly." Fiddleford answered him, coming over and taking hold of the ends of the tarp.

Stanley climbed onto the large tire of the trailer and hopped inside. He grabbed a suitcase, lowered it over the side as close as he could to the ground, and dropped it. After doing this with a couple of his and Ford's suitcases, he came to a black rectangular trunk with tarnished silver colored bands across the top.

"This all you brought, kid?" Stanley asked, picking the trunk up by the handles on the sides that were the same tarnished silver color as the bands at the top.

Fiddleford was just walking toward Ford with his end of the tarp as they finished folding it. He looked over at Stan when he spoke.

"Oh, do be careful with that! " Fiddleford cried, pushing the end of the tarp into Ford's hands and running back to the side of the trailer.

"No worries, kid, I got it. "

Ford set the tarp on the ground and came over. "Here, Stan, hand it to me instead of _dropping_ it like you did our suitcases. "

Fiddleford took the handle that was closest to him, and Stan relinquished the other handle to Ford. Fiddleford gritted his teeth from the weight, but he and Ford managed to lower it to the ground fairly gently.

"There." Ford said, looking up and Stan, who looked a bit confused at Fiddleford's outburst. "Stan, you and I should carry this inside when we're ready—and be _careful_ with it. "

Across the trunk from him, Fiddleford smiled gratefully.


	3. Chapter 3

It took about half an hour for the three young men to get everything from the trailer to the inside of the house.

When they first entered through the main door, the three found themselves in a large room with a small television, an easy chair, and a couch.

Stan looked around. "Eh—not bad. "he said as he lowered his end of Fiddleford's trunk.

Ford gently lowered the end he held onto. "Fidds, there's a room upstairs where you'll be sleeping, and Stan, you and I have the attic. "

Stan looked at his brother incredulously. "The _attic_? You didn't get bunkbeds, did you? "

Ford rolled his eyes and carried his suitcase over to the bottom of the staircase on the other side of the room. "No, Stanley, there are two separate beds, one on either side of the room. Don't know what you're worried about; I always slept on the top bunk when we were kids, anyway. If you don't want to be reminded how high up we are, don't look out the window. "

Stanley sighed heavily.

"Now, Fidds, let me show you your room. "Ford said, beckoning to his friend and heading for the stairs.

Fiddleford followed, with Stan right behind him.

At the top of the stairs, Ford turned right down a hallway. He opened the first door on the left and stepped inside.

Stan and Fiddleford looked around the room. Directly in front of them was a sectional with a couple of pillows on it and a blanket thrown over the back. A nightstand with a lamp on it and two drawers in the front stood at one end. At the far left side of the room was a desk and chair.

"I'm sorry it's not very well furnished. " Ford said. "Maybe when we get a bit more money coming in—"

"Oh, no, it's more than fine." Fiddleford told him.

Stan couldn't help but notice how wide the kid's eyes had gotten—and—were there tears in them?

"All right then," Ford said, yawning. "Looks like it's starting to get dark—"he said, looking at the bank of stained glass windows above the sectional, "I'll show you guys the lab downstairs tomorrow. Stan, you and I should bring Fidd's stuff up here. "

Now it was Stan's turn to have wide eyes. " _Downstairs_? Weren't we just down there? I didn't see any lab. "

His brother smiled. "There's more than one 'downstairs'…but you'll find out about that tomorrow. "

Stan shook his head and wondered what he'd gotten himself into, then followed his brother and Fiddleford out the door.

"Oh," Stanford said as he started down the stairs. "Stan, you and I should carry Fidd's trunk up to his room so everything he needs will be in there—and be _careful_ with it."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Ford, we were just _up_ there! Why didn't you bring it with us then?"

Fiddleford shot a grateful look at Ford when he'd told Stan to be careful.

The twins carried the trunk upstairs, and placed it on the floor in front of the nightstand.

"That okay, Fidds?" Ford asked.

"Just fine, thank you kindly." His small friend answered, breathing a sigh of relief that the trunk had reached the room without Stan dropping it.

There was a loud growling sound, and Fiddleford and Ford both looked at Stan.

Stan placed a hand on his stomach. "What? We ate hours ago. "

"Hm. We should do something about dinner."

"I can cook us something if you want." Fiddleford volunteered.

"Thanks, Fidds, but I didn't stock the refrigerator—" Ford said, pulling out his wallet. "I didn't know how long it would be between the time I came out to supervise the building of the house to the time I went back and got you guys. I am a scientist, but I don't care for the kind of science projects one can find in a refrigerator. "

Stan shuddered and stuck his tongue out. "Ugh—yeah—I remember finding a few of those in the fridge at home when we were kids. "

Fiddleford blinked. "Science projects? "

Stan nodded. "Yeah, you know—leftovers with mold growing on it, or cheese that had turned black or green. Come on, you're as much of a nerd as my brother. You know what a 'refrigerator science project is. "

The twins' small companion rubbed the back of his head and laughed, though Stanley thought the laugh sounded kind of forced.

"Oh, of course. That kind of 'science project'. "

Stanford put his wallet back in his pocket after seeing how much money was in it. "Well, guys, we can go and check out the diner back in town. At least it's something. "

Stan let his stomach take the place of wondering about Fiddleford's odd behavior. "Yeah, let's go. I hope you've got a lot of dough, Sixer. "

" _Stan-_ ley…" Ford groaned as he followed his brother to the door.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Stanley lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

 _What's the deal with Fidds and that trunk? What's in there that made him so freaked out I would drop it? Why is the little guy so secretive?_

A groan came from his brother across the room. "Stanley, would you turn the light out already? "

"Oh, yeah—sorry, Poindexter."

Stan rolled over and reached across to the nightstand in between the beds, turning out the lamp.

"Thank you." His brother said. "Why are you still awake, anyway? "

"I was—well, I was just wonderin' about Fidds. "

"What about him—oh. Stan, what's in that trunk is _none_ of your buisness. "

"Did he have it when you guys were in school? "

"Yes. Come to think of it, it was all the luggage he had. "

"Well—didn't you ever wonder about that? You're the one who's always had questions about stuff."

Ford sighed. " _Yes_ , Stan, I wondered—but I'm also the twin who knows when to _mind_ my own _buisness_. "

"But—"

"Stan—when and _if_ Fidds ever wants to tell us what's in that trunk, he will when _he's_ ready. For now I wish you'd just forget it and go to sleep! "

Stan just grunted and rolled on his back again, staring into the darkness.

Fiddleford lay on the sectional, listening to the sounds of owls and other night creatures skittering around outside. The room was so big and empty, and – it was actually kind of scary. He hadn't been expecting that.

The young man threw the blanket off of him and sat up; turning so that his legs went over the edge of the sectional and his feet touched the floor. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and exhaled.

"Fiddleford, calm down." He said, aloud, but softly. "It's all right; you can spend a night alone. Goodness sake, you're twenty-one years old, you're a man. "

He drew a deep breath and held it a moment. Yes, at twenty one he was a man—at least in the eyes of the law—but while his body and mind had matured, inside, his heart was still that of the lonely little boy back in Tenessee…

He looked over at the trunk, which had shadows dappled across it from the moonlight which came in the windows. There was something in there that always calmed him down when he was feeling uneasy, but he didn't dare get it out now. The Pines Twins were asleep not far from him in another room—possibly not far enough that they wouldn't hear…

Fiddleford sighed. Maybe in the morning he could—maybe….

The next morning, the three young men headed for the diner in town. When the entered, a young lady greeted them.

"Well, hello, there, boys, good to see you again." She said, winking at Stan.

Stan turned red and looked at the ceiling. Fiddleford snickered.

"What did you say your name was again, miss? " Stanford asked as the young waitress showed them to a booth.

"The name's Susan Wentworth, honey." The waitress said as she pulled a pad of paper out of her pocket. "But you can just call me Susan. "

"Miss Wentworth," Ford said, seeming to disregard what the waitress had just said, "Do you know of anything—well, _unusual_ that's happened around town? "

Susan closed one eye and looked at the ceiling with the other. "Mmm—now that you mention it, someone or something's been takin' my pies and things off of the window sill when I put them there to cool. I figure it's kids in town up to their pranks. "

Ford looked disappointed.

"Oi. Sixer, can you not talk 'shop' or whatever you nerds call it before we've eaten?" Stanley said, picking up a menu.

"Miss, is there any place we could buy some vittles to take to the house? Not that we don't mind patronizin' your fine establishment, but…"

Susan tilted her head. "Well, aren't you cute."

Fiddleford turned beet red.

"If you're lookin' for a place to buy groceries and things like that, the Dusk to Dawn's a nice little place to go. "

"Th-thank you kindly." Fiddleford managed to get out.

"I'll leave you boys to look at the menus a bit. I'll be back in a second. "

With that she sauntered off.

"Way to go, ladies' man." Stan teased.

Fiddleford put his head down behind the menu. Both of the Pines twins heard him yawn.

"You sleep all right last night, Fidds?" Ford asked.

There was another yawn from behind the menu, then Fiddleford put it down on the table. "Oh, yes. Just—just have to get used to new surroundings and all. "

Stan noticed that their small friend didn't look them in the eye when he said that. He opened his mouth to mention it, when Ford placed a hand on his arm.

"Well, if things are not comfortable or anything, please tell us. "

Fiddleford glanced up for a moment. "S-sure thing, Ford. Sure thing. "


	5. Chapter 5

After the three were done with breakfast, they headed down the road to the Dusk 2 Dawn.

The store was run by a couple who were about the age of the Pines' twins' parents.

"Well, hello, boys." Said the woman from behind the counter (the twins and Fiddleford noted that the name tag on her apron read "Ma". "What can I do you for? "

"Good morning, Ma'am." Stanford said. "We're just here to get some groceries. "

"Why go right ahead." She said, smiling. "The frozen items are in the back of the shop—if you need help finding anything, just holler. "

"Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am. "

The three went to different parts of the store and picked out things they thought they might need. When they got back to the counter, though—

"Hm." Stanford said, scratching his head. "That's an awful lot of stuff guys."

"I could go put some of it back." Fiddleford volunteered.

"Who says we aren't going to need it all?" Stan asked, laying a bag of chips down behind a loaf of bread so his brother wouldn't see them.

"We probably will—"his brother answered. "It's just going to be a bit of a pain carrying it all back to the house since we walked here. "

"My husband had this little wagon that some of our customers used to borrow." "Ma" explained. "It's been broken for some time now, though. "

"Is it handy? I could take a gander at it." Fiddleford said. Stan could almost swear the kid's eyes lit up.

"Well, that's sweet of you, son, but—well, let me see."

"Ma" came out from behind the counter and went to a door marked "Employees Only." After knocking she said, "Pa? Could you come out here a sec?"

They heard footsteps, and then a portly man a bit taller than his wife opened the door. "Whatcha need, Ma?"

"Have you got that old wagon handy? This young man would like to see it. ""Ma" said, gesturing toward Fiddleford.

The older man tilted his head. "Well, you're welcome to come take a look, son," he said, beckoning, "-but I'm afraid this little gal's down for the count."

Fiddleford followed the older man into a garage-like space. Boxes of product were piled by the walls. He smiled when he caught sight of the tool bench on the far side of the room.

"Here she is." "Pa" said, pulling a wooden-sided wagon out from a hollow under the tool bench. Fiddleford could hear the sound of metal dragging against the concrete floor.

"Hm." The young man mused, getting on his knee by the side of the wagon. Placing his hand on the side and looking up at "Pa" he said, "May I, sir?"

When the man nodded, Fiddleford turned the wagon over.

"Oh—well your problem's only a broken axle. That's fixed easy enough." Looking up again the young man asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a blowtorch handy, would you, sir? "

The older man scratched his head. "Uh…no, son, can't say that I do. "

"Hm."

Fiddleford thought a moment, then said, "Sir, if you'd allow me, I could take this back to where my friends and I are livin' and use my own blow torch to fix the axle. I'd bring it back, I promise. "

"Pa" raised his eyebrows. "Well, son, if you think you can do somethin' with it, be my guest. If it's too much trouble, just throw it in the dumpster. "

"Oh no sir," the young man said, standing. "No sense throwin' somethin' away that's still useful. "

He righted the wagon and took hold of the handle, pulling it out to the front of the shop where the twins waited.

Stanley blinked. "Um…"

"Looks like you've got yourself a project there, Fidds. "Stanford said with a grin.

"So now you mean we've got something extra to—"Stan started, when his brother kicked him in the calf.

"Ah, you can carry it with a couple of the bags." Ford said. "You're always going on about how much more muscular you are than me. "

 _Yeah, and I've got way more muscle than the kid_ , Stan thought, though he didn't dare say it aloud: one, he would probably hurt Fiddleford's feelings, and two, he sure didn't want to get kicked again by his brother.

Stan, Ford and Fiddleford loaded themselves up with as many bags as they could carry, and Stan hung onto the handle of the wagon while hanging the rest of it over his back, and carrying a couple of grocery bags by the handles in the other hand. Ford took two bags in one hand and one in the other, and Fiddleford carried one in each hand.

"Thank you!" all three of them called to "Ma" and "Pa", and headed back to the house.


	6. Chapter 6

About forty-five minutes later (due to having to stop on occasion because someone's arm hurt, or in Stan's case, his shoulder) the three young men made it back to the house.

"Ow." Stan complained, setting the wagon down on the floor and falling into the easy chair. "My shoulder's never going to be the same again. "

"Oh, quit being a baby, Stan." Ford said, putting the bags he was carrying down on the stovetop.

"I really appreciate your carryin' that back here. I'll take it back to the store myself when I'm done with it. "Fiddleford assured Stan, looking apologetic.

"Ah, don't worry, Fidds, he's fine. " Stanford assured him, taking the grocery bags from his smaller friend and carrying them over to the counter.

Fiddleford gave Stan another concerned glance and then looked down at the wagon. "Well, I'd better get to fixin' this. "

"What're you going to fix it with—duct tape?" Stan asked, his eyes closed.

Fiddleford blinked. "Why, no—I'm gonna to weld the axle back together. "

Stan's eyes flew open. "You're going to _what_? "

Fiddleford seemed to be confused that Stan didn't seem to understand what he said, and glanced at Ford.

"He said he's going to _weld it back together_ , knucklehead." Stan told his brother, though he was pretty sure that Stan had heard what Fidds had said.

"What—what does welding have to do with computer science-y whatever and the other whatever in engineering? "

Ford rolled his eyes and sighed. "It's got to do with the Masters in Engineering part, Stan. If I tried to explain it, it would take all night to get you to understand. "

Fiddleford glanced at Stan, then Ford, shook his head and started upstairs. "Just got to go an' get my acetylene torch. Stanford, is everything else-"

"Most of it's downstairs. " Ford confirmed.

"Great."

Fiddleford hurried upstairs, then within a few minutes came back down with the torch in his hand. Coming over to when Stan sat, he then picked up the wagon by the handle and headed for the door. "Stanford, I couldn't find—"

"The welding mask? I put it downstairs. "

"Thank you kindly. I'll see you two in half an hour or so. "

He went through the door on the other side of the room and shut it behind him.

"You—you trust that kid with a blowtorch? "Stan asked his brother.

Ford put his hands over his face, and slowly pulled them down in frustration. "Stan—one, it's an acetylene torch, and two, yes, he's a brilliant mechanic. He knows what he's doing. "

Stan looked back at the door. "Huh. Go figure. "

Ford smiled and shook his head. "You know, I just realized that I haven't showed you our other 'downstairs' yet."

"You mean it's through there? "Stan asked, jerking his head toward the door.

"Yes. That's where Fiddleford and I will be doing most of our experiments and things. "

"So, what—you've got some kind of mad scientist lab down there? "

Ford exhaled and rolled his eyes. "I suppose if you want to call it that, Stan—yes. "

He looked at the clock. "Hey, help me put some of these groceries away before lunch time rolls around. "

Stan exhaled heavily and got up out of the chair.

About forty-five minutes later, there was a thump at the door that led downstairs. Ford put the silverware down that he'd had in his hand and went to the door. Upon opening it, he found Fiddleford there with the wagon in his arms. Stan noticed the welding mask pushed back on the top of his head and the thick gloves that still covered his hands.

"Thank you, Stanford." The younger man said, coming in and going over to set the wagon back down by the easy chair. "I wouldn't have taken so long, but I wanted the weld to cool a bit before I brought the wagon back up. "

"Sure thing, Fidds." Stanford said. "Is everything finished down there? "

"Sure is. "

"Okay, then, we can have lunch. "

"Finally." Stan groaned. "I'm starving."

His brother shook his head. "Stan, you're always starving. "

"No I'm not." Stan said. "I'm only starving when it's actually time to eat. "

Fiddleford just chuckled, removed his gloves and the welding mask and headed upstairs to put them away and wash his hands before lunch.


	7. Chapter 7

After lunch, Ford had stacked up the plates and was getting ready to clear the table when his eyes widened slightly.

"Uh-oh - _what_? "Stan asked, recognizing the look.

"I was thinking, how about after we're cleaned up here, I take you downstairs and show you the lab, "his brother answered.

"Uh—"Stan lifted the bowl in his hands up so that Fiddleford could pass under it. "—sure, but I probably won't understand a thing you say about any of your techno-whatsit stuff down there. "

"Ah, come on. "Ford said as Stan walked into the kitchen with the bowl. "I know you're not as dumb as you look. "

Stan, who had gone into the kitchen to put the bowl in the sink, set it down on the counter a bit harder than he should have. "Ah— _what_ did you just say? "

Ford bit his lower lip. "Uh—that came out wrong."

"Why you—"

Stan turned and started toward his brother. Ford's eyes widened and he ran back to the living room.

Fiddleford watched as Ford opened the door that led downstairs to the lab. Stan went right after him. The youngest member of the trio shook his head, then grinned, albeit a bit sadly.

"Brothers, I suppose." he said to himself, then went back to the kitchen and made ready to wash the dishes.

At the bottom of the stairs, Stan had managed to put his brother in a headlock and started rubbing his knuckles on the top of Ford's head.

"Ow—Stan—ow! I'm sorry—ow! I didn't mean it, all right? OW! "

Stan gave the top of his brother's head a last slap and released him from the headlock. "That'll teach you to call me dumb—at least, within earshot."

Standing up, Stan's jaw suddenly dropped as he looked around him.

"Whoa…"

On both sides of him, there were large computer banks of some sort. Little lights flashed, and there were clicking and beeping sounds everywhere. Further into the room, Stanley spied a desk with a file cabinet next to it, and past it what appeared to be the side of a bookshelf.

"What the—"Stanley walked a little further into the room, looking wide-eyed around at everything. "Ford, this is—this is—just whoa…"

Ford grinned and followed his brother to the end of the computer banks. There was an open empty space off to the left of where the desk was.

"Man…what is all of this for? " Stan asked, turning to his brother.

"Oh, analyzing things and storing data and what not. "Ford answered, grinning. He knew if he actually tried to explain what everything in the room was for, it would go over Stan's head.

Stan noted large table on which there lay the welding mask and gloves Fidds had been wearing earlier, and a large chest of drawers of some sort. He looked at Ford.

"Oh, That's Fiddleford's little tinkering corner." Ford explained, grinning wider at the look of shock and confusion on Stan's face. "The chest is full of tools. That section with the cupboard doors on the bottom—that's where the acetylene tanks are and—other things that power the torch that I can't really explain because it's not in my wheelhouse. "

Stan shook his head. "That kid's full of surprises. "

"There's more to him than meets the eye, yes. " his brother agreed.

Stan looked toward the large empty space past Fiddleford's work station. Walking out into the space, he saw that it was quite cavernous, the "celing" being several yards above his head. "What are you going to do with this? "

Ford exhaled. "I don't really know. Maybe someday Fiddleford will need the space to build something really big—or, he and I will figure out something else we could use in the lab and put it there. "

"Wow." Was all Stan could think of to say.

Ford blinked slowly. "Well, we'd better get back upstairs. Knowing Fiddleford, he's three quarters of the way done cleaning the dishes and the rest of the kitchen, and I didn't mean for him to do it all by himself. "

"He is kind of a neat nick, isn't he?" Stan said, coming back to where his brother stood and looking over at the tool chest. He guessed that everything in there was arranged by size and maybe even color.

"He is." Ford said, his brow furrowing. It's almost as if—" he stopped and shook his head.

"If what?"

Ford shook his head. "Never mind, it's silly. Come on, let's get upstairs. "

He and Stan went back to the staircase that led to the door. Stan took one last look back into the lab, shook his head in disbelief, and then followed his brother.


	8. Chapter 8

Ford and Stan came through the door to the living room.

"Sorry about that, Fidds!" Ford called. "I hope you've left some of the cleaning for us…"

When the twins reached the kitchen, they found the dishes clean and drying in the dish rack. The table had been completely cleared. Their housemate, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Fiddleford?" Ford said, looking around.

"Maybe he went to his room." Stan suggested. "I'll go check."

Ford frowned. "I'll look outside. Back in school Fidds used to take a lot of walks by himself, but with what may be out there…" he bit his lower lip and headed for the front door rather quickly.

Stan grimaced. _I don't like to think of the little guy getting hurt, either, but if there are any monsters or anomo-whatsits out there, I think they'd pass over Fidds—he doesn't have enough meat on him to even make a snack._

He headed upstairs. On the landing he called, "Fidds-hey, little guy, you up here?"

Stan went down the hall and noted the door to Fiddleford's room was open. He walked over and stuck his head in the door.

"Fidds? "

Stan looked around, and no one was there. He was about to turn and leave when he noted the trunk that held Fiddleford's belongings was open.

 _I wonder what it was the little guy was so worried I'd break if I dropped that chest._ Stan thought.

He looked back down the hall and listened. Ford must have still been outside.

 _Eh, I'll just peek, then I'll leave._

Stepping softly, Stan walked over to the trunk. Looking down, he noted a couple of stacks of neatly folded clothes, on the left of the trunk. On the other—

Stan reached down and picked up a piece of paper in a thin plastic sleeve.

"Fiddleford Hadron – _Hadron_?-McGucket, born on November thirteenth, nineteen forty-seven to Susanna and Eustace McGucket five-nineteen a.m. six pounds nine ounces…"

Stan looked up from the paper. "Wow. He was tiny from the get-go. "

After setting the paper back down in the trunk, and saw a black and white picture in a frame. He picked it up.

In the photo, taken in front of a brick building, was a group of children that appeared to be standing on risers. Two strict looking ladies stood on either end of the front row of children…

"Stanley, I found this— _Stanley_! _What_ are you _doing_?"

Stan looked over his shoulder to see his brother in the doorway, a small piece of paper between his thumb and forefinger.

"Well I was looking for Fidds, and—"

"Never mind that!" Ford said angrily, coming into the room. "You have no buisness being in here without Fiddleford's permission, much less going through his belongings!"

"The door was open, and so was the trunk." Stan explained, holding out the picture to his brother.

"Regardless, you—"

Ford looked at the photo. "This was in the trunk?"

"Yeah." Stan said, pointing to a little boy in the photo who stood directly to the left of one of the strict looking ladies. "Remind you of anyone?"

Ford studied at the photo, still seething that Stan would invade Fiddleford's privacy like he did, but wondering what he thought was so important.

The children in the picture were all clean to a fault, every hair on their head perfect, except…that little boy. He wore a shirt that was two sizes too big for him, and while it appeared his hair had been combed, a stray rebel hair or two chose to stick out a different way just in time for the picture. The round lensed glasses the boy wore seemed almost too big for his face.

Stan thought he saw a bit of the color drain from his brother's face. "What—it can't be. "

"Do you think this was some kind of school picture or something? "Stan asked.

Ford looked at the building in the background. There were small words over the door, but too small to read.

"It—it could be—but—it seems so—so _sterile_. "

Ford turned the picture over and looked at the cardboard back that held the picture in the frame. Scrawled on the back in pencil was a name he read aloud, " Lakeview Hill Boy's Asylum, nineteen fifty-one. "

Stan gulped. " _Asylum_?"

"Not _that_ kind of asylum, knucklehead," Ford said, walking around him and setting the picture back down in the trunk. When he turned back to Stan he handed the piece of paper he'd been holding to him. "When I went outside, I found this on the ground. I'm guessing that Fiddleford stuck it on the door with the tape I found stuck on it, but a breeze or something must have blown it off."

Stan looked at the paper. On it was written:

 _Stanford and Stanley:_ _Went for a walk. Be back directly._

"Come on," Ford said, heading for the door. "We've got to find Fiddleford."


	9. Chapter 9

Stanley followed his brother outside. Stanford hurried down the porch steps and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Fiddleford!"

"Kid!" Stan yelled right after his brother. "Where do you think he went—should we split up?"

"As efficient as that would be, it's probably not a good idea. " Ford answered, beckoning. "Come on. "

Stan followed his brother toward the forest at the north side of the house. Looking around, all he could see were trees.

"Oh, man—these trees go on forever. "

Ford was looking at the ground to see if he could make out any footprints. "Okay, look around to see if anything looks disturbed—a broken branch, a shoe print in the mud—anything."

Stan looked behind them. The forest almost seemed to close in around them. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he was getting kind of "creeped out".

"Uh, Ford, you don't think—"

"Sh!" his brother intoned, holding up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

Stan listened. Aside from the occasional bird chirp, there was—music—and—singing?

"What the—"

Ford had started deeper into the forest before Stan could get his thought out. "Hey, wait up!"

About two hundred more yards into the forest, Ford stopped. The music and the voice were very clear now, and Stan heard it, too.

"Wha—" Stan's brows knitted. "That almost sounds like—"

Ford was running ahead of him again, and Stan bolted after him. After a few minutes Stan caught up. Ford was standing behind a row of bushes, looking straight ahead of him.

"Ford, what-?"

Stan's brother held up a hand to silence him, then used the same hand to point in front of him.

Stan came over to his brother's side and looked.

There was a small clearing on the other side of the bushes. A few yards from where the twins stood, his back against a tree, sat Fiddleford. There was a banjo in his lap (which, Stan had to admit, the little guy was pretty darn good at playing) and he was belting out John Denver's _Country Roads_.

"Son of a gun. " Stan said under his breath. He was pretty sure that banjo was why Fidds had been so anxious about his being careful with that trunk when they were unpacking the trailer.

The two of them stood there, listening to their friend sing and play. Their little friend sang with his eyes closed, so he never noticed them. Finally, he got to the last line.

For a moment the Pines brothers stood silent, then Stan started clapping. His brother followed suit.

Fiddleford drew in a sharp breath and his eyes flew open.

Stan hopped over the bushes into the clearing, while Ford stepped over them more gingerly. When the twins had moved a bit closer to their friend, Ford got down on his knees next to him.

"Fiddleford—I had no idea you were musically talented. "

"Yeah." Stan agreed, sitting cross-legged at his friend's feet. "You're really good, kid. "

Fiddleford 's cheeks went red. "Thank you both—you—you all came looking for me? D-didn't you find my note? "

"Yes, but—" Ford said with a frown, "It may very well be dangerous out here, Fiddleford, I—we—were worried. And-I've known you for four years, Fiddleford. Why didn't you tell me you could play? "

The younger man sighed. "I—well—"he bit his lower lip, then continued, "—well, who would take me seriously? I love playin', but no one'd see me as someone with a couple a' college degrees behind my name. One minute a' listenin' to my accent and playin' the banjo on top of it, and well—I'd just be seen as some kinda hick. "

Ford frowned and shook his head. "Fiddleford, I already knew you had such amazing talents—and now I find out you have another. It shouldn't matter what other people think. Only the opinions of people who really know you should matter. "

Fiddleford just sighed.

"Yeah," Stan said, agreeing with his brother. "Who cares what people think? Besides, you're practically my little brother, so if anyone called you a hick I'd have to punch 'em in the face. "

Ford groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. "Sta-an…" Fiddleford put his head down, then looked up at Stan and grinned appreciatively.

After a moment, Ford removed his hand from over his eyes and looked pointedly at Stan. "Don't you have something to say to Fiddleford? "

Stan cast a confused look at his twin. "I do? "

Ford's brows drew together and he mouthed, _the trunk_.

"Uh—oh yeah, that." Stan said, swallowing hard and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

Fiddleford looked from one twin to the other, wondering what they were talking about.


	10. Chapter 10

Stan rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Uh—well, Ford an' I were lookin' for you, and—and—"

Ford continued to look at his brother pointedly.

Stan sighed. "I was upstairs—your bedroom door was open—and—and so was that trunk of yours…"

Fiddleford blinked slowly. "Y' looked at what was inside. "

Stan gulped. "Yeah. I'm sorry—I—I shouldn't 'a' been lookin' through your stuff…."

Fiddleford closed his eyes, and Stan gulped. _Aw, man, if I've hurt the little guy's feelings, Ford'll kill me._

After a moment, the twins' small companion opened his eyes and looked straight into Stan's. "Well, I s'pose I should've told y'all about that stuff a long time ago—I just—never really had the courage. It's all right, Stan, I'm glad you looked. "

Stan blinked. He was relieved, but surprised as well.

"You—you were in a children's home of some sort?" Ford ventured to ask.

The look in Fiddleford's eyes made the twins think that his mind was somewhere far away. After a few moments he said, "An—an orphanage, actually. My mother—my mother died soon after havin' me and my father—my father went 'n' shot himself soon after that. "

Both Stan and Ford drew sharp breaths.

"Aw, kid, I'm sorry. "Stan said. Ford placed a hand on his younger friend's shoulder.

Fiddleford just shook his head, his eyes still indicating that he was in that far-off place in his mind. "I—used to have a newspaper clipping about how my father shot himself, but—it got lost over the years. That orphanage was the only home I knew for most of my life.

"I was—well, I was little, so the older boys pushed me around quite a bit. I would hide from them wherever I could, an' when I was alone, I would—well, I would make things out of whatever I could get my hands on. "

Ford grinned. That last statement did not surprise him in the least.

Fiddleford continued. "When I got a little older, I found myself fixin' things around the orphanage—an'—sometimes usin' spare parts to build other things."

The look in his eye still far away, he smiled. "I can remember making a lot of toys out of metal scraps and things that the kids younger than me would play with. It was nice to see them enjoyin' them. "

He drew a deep breath and sighed. "When I was fifteen, I left the orphanage. After a month or two on my own, I became apprentice to a welder. At first I would just get things for him when he told me to, but one day he went out to do somethin', and I saw that he had a project that wasn't finished. I'd watched him work enough that I figured I could do things the way he did, so I finished the project for him. "

Stan noted that his brother blinked, but smiled.

"When the gentleman came back, he was at first angry that I had messed with his things, an' told me to get out. I was packin' to leave when he came in and apologized—he said he—"

Fiddleford went red. Stan and Ford looked at each other, both having the suspicion that, as usual, Fiddleford didn't want to "brag on himself" as he would have put it.

"He liked your work, didn't he?" Ford asked gently.

As he often did when he was embarrassed, their small friend bit his lower lip and nodded quickly. "He—he did, yes. He said—he said that I was—a—a weldin' genius, and that he'd never seen such intricate work. "

Ford's smile went wider and he said aloud, "That doesn't surprise me at all. "

Fiddleford's face turned an even darker shade of red, and Stan thought,

 _If the kid blushes any harder, his head might pop._

"There was a homeless gentleman who used to lollygag around the shop sometimes—when there wasn't much to do I would make him food an' listen to him play. "the youngest of the three men continued, looking down at the banjo in his lap and smiling fondly. "He's th' one who taught me _how_. "

Ford felt a sense of awe wash over him. _Fiddleford is so young—but what a life he's led already._

"When I was almost seventeen, both the welder and the old homeless man died—within months of each other. Well, I was caught with my pants down when I found out that that ol' welder had left everything to me, him havin' no children and all. Another homeless gentleman brought this to me—" Fiddleford indicated the banjo—"—and told me that th' man who'd taught me to play wanted me to have it. "


	11. Chapter 11

Stan and Ford were both silent. Stan was finding it hard to keep back tears, though he sure as heck didn't want his brother or Fiddleford to see him cry.

"I worked out havin' the welder's shop sold, as I knew I wanted to learn more. "

Fiddleford cast a grin at Ford. "The sale made enough money for a ticket to New Jersey an' tuition at Backupsmore. "

Ford smiled. "And what a great thing that was. "

Stan nodded in agreement. If Fidds hadn't been there, Stan would have lost his brother.

"Well, "Ford said, standing up, "Thank you, Fiddleford. I really appreciate your confiding in us. "

"Yeah, and for telling all that stuff, too." Stan agreed, standing up himself.

Ford shook his head, smiling.

Stan bent over, placed his hands under Fiddleford's armpits and stood him up. The smaller man looked shocked for a second, then regained his composure and grinned up at Stan.

"Come on, let's go home." Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's shoulder.

A look of contentment passed over Fiddleford's face. _Yeah. Home…_

"Yeah, let's, "Stan agreed, "I'm starvin'."

"What else is new?" Ford asked.

"Ford, are you in need of some noogie-ing again-" Stan started to threaten, when he thought he heard a noise.

He stopped and looked toward the bushes.

Ford looked over his shoulder. "Come on, Stan. "

Stan listened. He could have sworn he'd heard something moving in the bushes, but now there was nothing. "Huh. Sorry about that—thought I heard somethin'."

He turned and followed Fiddleford and his brother. 

That evening, the three were seated in the living room. Ford and Stan were listening to Fiddleford play.

"Beatiful." Ford said when Fidds had finished.

"You're good, kid, you're really good. "

Fiddleford just blushed.

"So," Stan continued—"What's with that song?"

Fiddleford tilted his head. "The song? "

"Yeah—the one you were singin' – you were singin' it out there in the forest, too."

Fiddleford grinned and looked a little sheepish. "Oh, I—well, the lyrics just kind of—well, they're close to my heart. "

Ford understood, after hearing about Fiddleford's background. " _…take me home—to the place I belong…"_ How long had it taken for his friend to feel like he belonged anywhere or was—truly home?

To his surprise, Stan must have gotten the gist, too. "Well, kid, I think you belong _here_. Like I said to you a long time ago, you're kind of like a little brother to us. "

His brother nodded in agreement.

Fiddleford grinned widely.

There was a moment of silence.

"I suppose tomorrow we could start with our observations." Ford finally said.

"Obser—what, now? "Stan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Looking for the anomalies that are supposed to be here. "Ford explained.

"Yeah, did you bring the cameras, Ford? I'd be obliged to set some up in the forest." Fiddleford volunteered.

"I did bring them, Fidds. That would be a great way to start off—"

There was a thump and a skittering noise on the front porch that made all three of the young men look.

"Wh—what was that?" Fiddleford asked, trying not to show his nerves but being unsuccessful.

"Hang on, you two, I'll check."

Stan got up from his seat and headed for the door. When he got there he reached for the handle slowly, then grabbed it and jerked the door open.

There was no one there. Stan stuck his head out the door and looked on both sides of the porch, but couldn't see anyone. Then something caught his eye.

Looking down, Stan saw that there was a pie in front of the threshold. He bent down and picked it up, snatching a paper that almost blew away in the breeze. Standing up, he saw it was a note.

 _Dear music wizard:_

 _Please come and play for us again, soon._

Stan scratched his head.

"What was it, Stan? " Ford called.

"Eh—"

Stan turned back inside with the pie in one hand and the note in the other. Pushing the door shut with his foot he said, "Fidds, I have the funny feelin' this was meant for you. "


End file.
